Confessions
by Hergan
Summary: Andy Mitchell has a secret. A big secret. This is onesided slash, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Other than flames, R&R.


**A/N: I am most definitely _not_ in charge of Pendragon, or any of it's characters. This is completely made up. I am re-writing this chapter and totally starting over on the second chapter. I also have now read enough in the series to know that this makes no sense whatsoever with the actual events, however, it is still going to be written because I think it will be fun.**

**Also, this is SLASH FICTION. So if you don't like that, _please_ just go away and don't come back. Because I would rather not be flamed. I am writing this as if Andy Mitchell was the person actually writing it down, and because it is in first person, there will be some spelling and grammar mistakes. This time there will be no ' marks, because I doubt that Andy Mitchell would actually have wrote them in. I also changed some wording and spelling stuff so that it is easier to read.**

My name is Andy Mitchell, and I've gotta tell yah some pretty Embarrasin stuff. Part of this has gotta do with a guy named Mark Diamond.

Yah see, I'm missin the part of my brain thats Gotta do with English. So I wouldn't have been caught near him. But I'm also pretty good at math, although I didn't let that show. If I did, who knows. Maybe I wouldn't have been picking on him.

It all started around Second grade. As yah know, I was bad at English, but good at math. I was sick of bein pushed around 'cause of it, so I decided to become a slug. I decided tah push them geeks around a bit. They hadn't accepted me, and if I hid my Math, then the other bullys and stuff might accept me.

I chose Mark to be my victim. He seemed nice, but I couldn't do anything about it because I needed the power. I Had to fit in. I started to like him as a friend somewhat, like I viewed him as my ability to belong. I was thankful to his wimperings, whinings and wussiness.

But it wasn't bad 'till 'bout seventh grade. Then I wanted tah stop pickin' on him. I couldn't though. I was a thug. That gave me power. And by then I was a druggie. I needed the money. So I didn't. I couldn't loose the only way I got friends, or my Supply of cigarettes. The only way I got status. I was week. Still am.

Mark was taken' a piss as I walked in. I'd just come in for a Quiet smoke, and I had tah pick on the kid. I didn't wanna, but I still had tah beat him up. I didn't show it of course and pulled a cigarette from my pocket. I lit it, took a single drag, and tossed it into Mark's urinal.

Mark looked up at me. I looked at Mark. I wished he didn't have tah look at me like that. But then I didn't blame him. I did pick on him a lot. I looked at him back, staring him down. I saw his eyes. So wide in surprise. They were pretty eyes. But they Narrowed in mistrust, so I didn't get tah see em long. The moment had passed, and I hadn't done anything I was supposed to yet.

Shaking off the weirdness of what I had just Thought, I spoke, "I want ur money, nerd." I couldn't believe my mouth was sayin those words. But I still did it.

Mark turned from the urinal after pullin up 'is pants. "What if I don't have any?" he asked cautiously.

"You got some." I threatened. I watched him acknowledge it without realizing it. It happened deep in his eyes, where he didn't Know others could see. But I could. Bullies get tah know they're victims. Besides, every one knew Mark had no Poker face.

Mark turn around and headed towards the sink.

"No I don't." I had to give him credit for tryin to cover up his mistake. Except I sill had to hurt 'him. He was still my victim. Cursin I reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

"Yah sure?" I asked. My hands felt like they were goin tah go dead from the pleasure. My heart beat like crazy. I wasn't sure what was going on. Could this have something to do with the prettiness I had just seen in his eyes?

I reminded myself that he was a victim, and that they got away if you thought too much while dealing with them. Luckily my wrist on his neck was preventing him from going any where. "I don't have any!" he squealed, desperately trying to get out of my grip.

"Fine," I warned, and let my hands fall. Relief flooded Mark's face, and I was sorry it couldn't stay. I hoped this had nothing to with the rush I found earlier. I made my fist come up and hit him on the side of the head, just hard enough tah knock him out. I was sorry, but I wasn't showin it on the outside. I searched his pockets, and I felt my heart rush again. I wished that would stop. It was making me nervous. Eventually I found four quarters and took em. My work was done, for the moment.


End file.
